Chore Wars No More!

Eric wiped out three times on his snowy bike ride home from Swedish lessons today. I say "Husker Du! and Lutefisk, Too" to that! Of course, I don't want my kids to get hurt in this world. Not wanting something, though, is a lousy reason for keeping them locked up in the house.

And, believe me, I do NOT want to lock my kids inside the house...Outside? Maybe. But not inside!

I grew up in a household in which we all had chores. All five Raglin kids were expected to help out, even though our mom spent some of her Hovland-Swanson paychecks on a twice-monthly cleaning lady. (Hey, she had seven stinky people living in the place. I will not begrudge her that expenditure). Looking back, I'm grateful that my parents thought enough of us to expect us to help out.

And, really, that's what chores are all about. When a parent assigns a chore, she is telling the child "This household could not function well without your contributions." Okay, what we're really saying is "I am sick and tired of busting my butt for other people, so YOU are going to pick up my slack. It is why I agreed to birthing children in the first place!!"

You can see why I usually opt for the shiny lie when I explain chores to my kids.

Anyway, back to my point. . .

Giving chores to young children offers an adult the perfect explanation for why their house looks like a crack den. "Oh, you know little kids! They can't be expected to mop up ALL the messes! Heh, heh, heh..." "The missing roof tiles? Yeah, little Eric just couldn't reach that high!"

Beyond saving my face and providing me additional couch time, though, assigning my children ever more chores really does help them in their goal of becoming independent adults. Yes, both Eric and Allison rode their bikes home in the ice and snow today. Yes, both had to get off their bikes and walk at one point or another along the route home. But neither one complained much when they finally rolled in, pants wet, eyelashes frozen.

Read that last sentence again and I'm guessing you'll feel just the slightest bit jealous that Eric and Allison are MY kids. Both got over the inconvenience of making their way home on their own today. To me, that's pretty huge. And satisfying.

And, even though, in some circles, such stories make people want to speed dial Social Services, I'm generally convinced that the more I let my kids live their own lives and occasionally fester in the piles of their own decisions, they will be better adults for that.

And me? Well, I already have benefited. I picked up no one after school, my dishwasher has been unloaded and will magically load itself after dinner, our garbage will find its way to the curb and I will remain unmoved, on the couch, new bedsores festering under the success of my supreme parenting skills!